Once Upon a Lie
by Kitty Slap
Summary: Tsubasa Imamura has a lackluster life and more bills than she can count. To impress a frenemy, she invents that she is the wife of Sabaku no Gaara, vice president of Wind Shadow Hotel and heir to the Kazekage line. Tsubasa and Gaara quickly get caught within her web of lies, but when they begin to realize it benefits them both, the two enter into a mutual agreement. GaaraxOC


**Once Upon a Lie**

Disclaimer:I don't own Naruto. This story is inspired by the daydreams of a young woman who spends much of her free time watching Korean dramas.

Author's Note:In another alternate universe, watch the story of Tsubasa and Gaara unfold.

Summary: Tsubasa Imamura is a travel agent with a lackluster life and more bills than she can count. To impress a frenemy, she invents a life much more luxurious than her own. She even goes as far as claiming to be the secret wife of Sabaku no Gaara, vice president of Wind Shadow Hotel and heir to the Kazekage line. Tsubasa quickly finds herself caught tightly within the tangled web she weaved and manages to get Gaara stuck alongside her. As everything spirals beyond control, the two eventually realize that perhaps the lies can work in their favor, and the two enter into a mutual agreement.

**Chapter One: That's How Rumors Get Started Part One  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Perfection, he felt, was not too much to strive for. And he was a perfectionist.<p>

His keen eyes were particularly attentive and critical when it came to the spotlessness of his hotel. He was proud of his routine inspections although his employees would just about go into cardiac arrest each time. The point of the inspections was to keep them on their toes, keep them alert, and ensure that everything was in its rightful place to produce a beyond adequate environment for his hotel guests. The Wind Shadow Hotel had a five-star reputation to uphold.

And that was the funny thing about perfection. You could never quite grasp it. It was always just slightly out of reach. Your fingertips could touch it, but never hold it completely. Striving for perfection was an endless endeavor, an endeavor which required constant effort and maintenance. That was the sort of perfection he insisted all his staff continuously struggle for.

Strolling into their largest banquet hall, Gaara met with one of his best employees, a woman named Tazuna. She was a serious sort of woman, very sharp and very efficient. Although he would have to say her greatest quality was her attention to small details. She had an air about her which allowed her to command respect from those around her. It was the way she confidently carried herself, the manner in which she entered a room. Her above-average height was something she used to her benefit as well. It gave her power, and power was something to be respected.

"Kazekage-sama, we're preparing for the Izumi wedding," she reported. Her teeth were as white as pearls and just as shining. Tazuna was not just a woman of efficiency. She was also a woman of class who took pride in her appearance as she did her ability to direct others.

Gaara gave a nod of his head and snapped his fingers to control the lighting. Each time he snapped, the lighting in the hall would change to a different hue. When he felt satisfied with the way setup was going he said, "Very good."

Tazuna smiled. Her boss wasn't one of many words, but she had known the man for several years. Foremost as a friend, but also as his employee. She knew small statements such as 'very good' were one of the best compliments she could expect to receive from him. She also understood that he had the utmost confidence in her to carry out her duties as an executive director of operations.

Gaara and Tazuna made their way to the main entrance of the hall. A commotion had occurred which needed dire attention. Three women crowded around the front desk, all flustered, but only one was in tears. Gaara recognized the crying woman immediately. She was tomorrow's bride-to-be.

She was under the impression that her fiancé was unfaithful to her. Through her tears and a strained voice, she begged for his rooming information. She believed him to be cheating on her with her best friend.

The front desk clerk informed her that to divulge customer information was strictly against policy. Her two friends immediately went to her aid, demanding him to have a conscience and help them settle the matter.

"I am sorry," the clerk said, "but we must maintain guest's privacy."

"In a situation such as this," Gaara interrupted, "policy must be forfeited."

He guided the almost-bride and her two friends to the fifth floor where her fiancé was staying. Gaara, Tazuna, and some of the other management staff stood a couple yards distance to give the woman her space while she confronted her fiancé.

Her quivering hand rose to knock at his room's door, but then fell to her side before she could complete the action. She turned to Gaara with martyred eyes and said, "I will have to cancel the entire wedding, explain everything to my guests, and pay the deposit on the hall. I didn't rent my wedding dress either. I had it tailored just for me." She shook her head as more tears spilled down her cheeks. "How am I to deal with all this and still remain unwed?"

Gaara was silent. He didn't have an answer for her, not one that he'd easily share anyway. He knew very well that most women didn't want to marry to be united with the one they love, but were more set on the idea of the wedding. They wanted the happiness and the bliss that a wedding is entitled to, but they did not care as much about the man they were to meet at the altar. It was the milestone itself which was the prize, not the actual devotion of eternal love.

Perhaps he was just cynical, but he'd seen this to be the case over his many years as vice president of the hotel. Wedding fiascos weren't uncommon, and he'd become an expert on how to handle when they did go awry.

"What do I do?" She looked to him for an answer she did not want. "Maybe ignorance is bliss. Maybe I should just walk away and continue with the wedding tomorrow. That would be the wise thing to do, right?"

Rather than respond verbally, he went to the door himself and knocked.

"What are you doing?" the bride-to-be demanded. Eyeliner dripped down her cheeks until it made dark stains. She tried to dab at it, but it only smeared more.

He shrugged. "It's my hotel."

A robed man lazily answered the door. His hair was more than slightly tousled, confirming what Gaara also suspected of him. He noticed the gold chain loosely hanging around the man's neck where the robe didn't quite cover. Chains like these were what Gaara considered tacky. Those who were fond of them were usually fond of themselves, thought themselves to be a ladies man. Gaara had seen men like him before, and he was an excellent judge of character.

"What do you want?" His voice was curt and rushed. It was clear that he was being interrupted.

"I just wanted to thank you for choosing Wind Shadow," said Gaara smoothly. Without making it obvious, he glanced past the robed man and could see the silhouette of another robed figure near the bed, legs stretched out. It was definitely feminine. "Is there anything more we can do to make your stay here more pleasant?"

"Well, yeah you can actually. I ordered room service forever ago," the man frowned. "Where is it?"

Without further coaxing from her friends, the bride-to-be surged through the doorway, making sure to shove a slice of wedding cake she had saved in her purse into his face. "Here's your room service," she scowled. "Where is she?" She was screeching now as she bristled past him to scour the room. Her two friends followed suit in a similarly furious manner.

It seemed they found the evidence they'd been looking for. The figure Gaara had seen had revealed herself to be none other than the almost-bride's maid of honor, or dishonor, as the situation would now have it. Many shrill cries were heard, most of which was comprised of derogatory name-calling and curses. There was definitely a few battle cries amongst the string of swear words.

Gaara sighed as Tazuna approached him for further instruction. "Give them ten minutes, then handle the situation. Please pay for a cab to take the woman and her friends home."

He left the mess far behind him and returned to the hotel lobby. Three of his employees stood in a line awaiting his inspection. They were presentable, but something was off. He immediately noticed one of the men's buttons was carelessly undone, a pet-peeve of his. He could see the man was nervous as he approached, but he didn't move.

Gaara's fingers deftly adjusted the button for him, and he stepped back to reevaluate the trio. With the employee's shirt now fixed properly, the man bowed to Gaara in gratitude and respect.

Mostly everything had been manageable, but for some reason Gaara had a gut feeling that it wasn't the end of mishaps he was going to face that day. He had an unsettling and nagging feeling that began in the pit of his stomach and led up to his throat where it had formed a stubborn knot. No, his gut instinct was never wrong. There was something impending his way.

**Sunagakure Tourism Convention **

Tsubasa Imamura observed cheerfully as several Sunagakurian dancers took the stage, encouraging the event attendees to join in. Her hands went to her camera in hopes of getting some good actions shots. She loved photographing traditional dancing. She loved that she was getting paid to do so even more.

She had graduated at the top of her class with a communications degree with an emphasis in public relations. Once upon a time ago, she had dreams of becoming a PR agent for an impressive company, earning a six-figure salary.

After graduation and an almost fruitless mission of job hunting, Tsubasa quickly learned that for people like her, dreams just didn't come true. She supposed she just wasn't meant for the lap of luxury no matter how hard she worked. She just had to accept that she was instead destined to sit in a deteriorating throne of help-me-I'm-poor-ness. So there she was just a civil servant for a prosperous company with no hint of a promotion in sight.

Still, she wasn't going to let that get her down. She had to believe that somehow, someway there would be some sort of epic pay off for all her efforts. She would hold onto that belief the way an infant has a grasping reflex to hold on. It was immature and stubborn perhaps, but it was still a natural response of survival. And that's what Tsubasa knew how to do best, to survive.

Tucking a wave of pink hair behind her ear, she returned her eye to the camera and focused on capturing a drummer just as he beat down upon his instrument. She grinned from behind the lens, wondering if she would get praise for her pictures when she showed them to her boss for approval.

She was soon overcome by the music and the dancing as she let the camera dangle securely around her neck by its strap. She joined hands with some of the event's guests and began to dance with them. Just because she was on the clock, didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself as well. Part of her duties were to engage the guests, get them more involved.

It wasn't long before she found herself overworked by the energy she expended while dancing. Her stomach grumbled almost painfully to remind her it was time for a lunch break. She meandered over to a booth where her coworkers were stationed.

"I'm starving," she announced to them, clutching her stomach to emphasize her dire need to nourish herself.

"You haven't eaten lunch yet?" One coworker asked her.

"I haven't eaten breakfast yet," she replied.

"You've got the willpower of an ox," said another. "I don't know how you do it."

At this, she smiled. It always pleased her to hear such compliments from her coworkers. At least someone was taking notice to her and her hard work.

Her smile quickly vanished at the sight of an incoming bee. She fidgeted erratically to get away, fearful of being stung. To think such a tiny insect could do so much damage to someone many times greater in size. She hated the little pests.

Fortunately for her, a coworker was able to remove the threat by smashing it with a pamphlet.

"What's up with all these bees?" she frowned to herself, not liking her growing chances of getting stung.

Her coworkers shrugged. "We better get up and greet the speaker of the event. He's right over there," one pointed out.

The group quickly rose to their feet and went on their way ahead of Tsubasa. She was slow to join them but only because of another bee sighting. When she did catch up to the others, she respectfully greeted Choji Akimichi. He was the president of the travel company Hidden Villages of Culture and Tourism.

President Akimichi was originally from the Hidden Leaf Village, the place where he first began his company. Being the first of its kind, the company quickly grew into a thriving business. Each hidden village now had a branch, and Suna's branch was one of the strongest in the company. At least, Tsubasa thought, she was part of something great since she was not so great herself.

"Whose idea was this event?" asked President Akimichi. His light hair lifted at the sides, defying gravity nearly. His eyes were tiny, scrunched, but his cheeks were chubby like a squirrel's when storing food. The blush on his cheeks made him look rather jolly though. Tsubasa decided he was a friendly enough man.

The district manager of the Suna Branch was the first to respond, but it came out garbled. "Well, it was… I mean…" Akira wanted to take credit, to be praised by President Akimichi, but he knew very well he couldn't lie in front of his staff so easily since they knew the truth. His subordinate was the producer of the event, not him, and to admit as much to the president of the company made him appear incompetent.

Nervously, Tsubasa raised her hand. "It was me, Akimichi-sama."

"Tell me your name," the president said. A smile seemed to spread between his two plump cheeks.

"Imamura Tsubasa. I'm part of Suna's tourism division," she replied. She didn't make direct eye contact out of respect for him.

"And you are responsible for this?"

"Yes," she beamed, unable to shield her eyes from his. She was growing excited now.

"That's right!" Akira finally spoke up. "Tsubasa-san is one of our best. I trained her myself." If he couldn't take credit for the event, he could at least take credit for Tsubasa's training.

Tsubasa couldn't help but shoot him a confused look. Akira hadn't done much for her since she joined the company other than give her a difficult time. Still, she remained respectfully silent on that matter after realizing he didn't want to appear as an ineffective leader before the president.

"To open a national event at a place like this was a fantastic idea." Choji tried not to lick his chops at his next words. "And the caterer you chose was a great choice. The food is incredible!"

"Thank you," Tsubasa said, bowing her head. She almost wanted to cry of happiness in front of them all, but held her composure. At long last, she was being recognized for her talents and hard work. Right then, she decided that today was her day to shine, to stand out and be recognized. She was capable of the impossible, of breaking barriers. Today, she was enough.

"All you need to make sure is that the guests here have a nice hotel to stay in." He gave a chuckle. "Keep up the good work," he told Tsubasa and bowed his head. He decided it was time for him to return to the food. It was nearly a half hour since he last ate, and he was famished.

Akira looked more than displeased but said nothing.

Tsubasa ignored his discontentment and went onto be interviewed by one of Suna's news stations' reporters. She went into gross detail about what her company does exactly and how greatly it benefits not just their customers, but every hidden village. The amount of money the hidden villages were now making because of the higher tourism traffic allowed more funding for education and for the town to fix its areas of need. Culture was being spread and shared, allowing for greater unity to develop between the countries. Unallied nations had less tensions as a result. What her company did was good for everyone, and she was grateful to be a part of it.

As she reminded herself to smile, Tsubasa's lips began twitching at the sight of a massive swarm of bees overhead. It wasn't long before the droves reached the guests, including herself and the reporters who had ceased interviewing her to get away. All she had to defend herself with was a bottle of water and a small fan at her feet. In a split-second decision, she could only choose one weapon.

She ditched the bottled water, but used the small fan to swat at the bees. There were too many, however, and they were guests were no match for maddened hornets.

She wasn't sure what had disturbed their nest. Perhaps it was their attempt to restore balance to the universe for the compliments she had received from the president. They were telling her to fall back into her place of mediocrity. How dare she think to rise above her social standing?

But her eyes fixated with determination as she approached the stage and grabbed the microphone. The crowd before her was in complete and utter pandemonium. She implored them to calm down, to stop angering the bees more so than they already were. They were only making things worse.

No one listened. Rather, they did the opposite. Someone had found a hose and unleashed its water at full force upon the bees. The pelting showers only served to infuriate the swarm of bees and drench every guest within its reach. It was total chaos.

"Please," Tsubasa begged into the microphone. "Please, calm down! Everything is going to be fine!"

Even as the words left her, even as she wished so deeply for them to listen and for things to back to normal, she knew very well that everything was not going to be alright. Everything was ruined.

The last thing she saw before passing out was the black and yellow stripes of a bee as it raced toward her and swiftly stung her in the chest for her insubordination.

"Back in your place, Tsubasa," she thought she heard the bee say, and then everything went black.

**Sunagakure Airport **

He only had a messenger bag wrapped around his shoulder. He didn't own much and didn't need much either. He'd survived just fine with only the contents of that bag. He'd gotten pretty far with them too – as far as the Land of Birds. He would have made it farther too if he hadn't enjoyed the peaceful tranquility the small nation had to offer.

Flanked between the Land of Earth and the Land of Wind, the area was beautiful. The waterways were unpolluted and the land itself was lush. It was no wonder several birds migrated to the area, hence the name of the nation.

Life was simple there. He'd found work as a gardener for the wealthier residents, earning good money. He stayed at a humble apartment complex with a courtyard he enjoyed relaxing in. He'd spent countless days near the koi pond of that courtyard and daydreamed of what his life could have been. He also spent much of his down time crafting toys and puppets. He'd give them away to the children of the families he worked for. They always encouraged him to open his own toy store, but he preferred the leisure that came with gardening rather than selling his toys for profit.

For a moment, he briefly wondered if it was all worth giving up to come back to Suna, to come back to a home which may not even welcome him.

"Where would you like to go?" The cab driver asked him once he situated himself in the passenger seat.

Kankuro smiled. "Anywhere is fine."

**Hidden Villages of Culture and Tourism: Suna Division**

She couldn't bear to look her district manager in the eye. This was mostly in part due to the fact that her eyes were still puffy. On the way back to the office from the event, she had found herself crying from the stress. She was fortunate that a medic team arrived on the scene almost immediately and took the injured guests to the hospital. The bees had dispersed, likely returning to their vicious nests.

"You just had to stand out, didn't you?" Akira's eyes were accusing although he wasn't looking directly at her. He held a mirror to his face and dabbed ointment to a bee sting he had received on his cheek. It was enflamed and pinkish-red.

"I didn't mean to," she mustered, but she knew it wouldn't be enough for him.

"Akimichi-sama is still at the hospital. He was stung _five _times! He's _allergic_!"

Tsubasa cringed. "Perhaps we should talk to the head of the hospital and see what more can be done." Her voice was only a hoarse whisper.

"You need to take responsibility for this disaster. It was _your _event after all." She could see Akira was enjoying this despite the pain of his bee stings. This was the outcome he had hoped for.

"But it isn't my fault there was a huge nest of bees there! How was I to even know?" Her face began to turn pink with exasperation. "And how can I help it that they were agitated? It's not as if I poked their nest with a stick and unleashed them!"

Akira just shook his head. "I need you to write a letter of apology. People are in the _emergency_ room because of you."

Her boss had a horrible habit of emphasizing every adverse word he could in sentences. It was as though he relished in watching others squirm before him. He loved the negativity.

"I bet you're happy things turned out the way they did, and that I look badly because of it. You hated seeing Akimichi-sama praise me." Tsubasa didn't care to sugarcoat the matter. She knew that was exactly what Akira was thinking. He had had it out for her since day one, and she wasn't stupid. His resentment toward her had been evident enough throughout her time working for him.

"What I hated seeing was Akimichi-sama in an ambulance for going into anaphylactic shock. If you don't want to write a letter of apology then write a letter of resignation," he said in a low voice. "Your choice."

Tsubasa rolled her eyes and left the office. Today, apparently, was not her day.

**Club Oasis, Evening Time**

He knew it was only natural for him to end up at Suna's most popular night club, Club Oasis. It had been one of his favorite places to frequent before he left home for the Land of Birds. Kankuro closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the smell of liquor and sweat, the flashing lights threatening to breach through his darkened eyelids, and the gyrating music. He felt the music shake him, move him, although he was standing still.

"Kankuro-kun?" A voice beckoned him. "Is that you?"

Now, Kanoka Sendo was someone he hadn't seen in a very long time. She wasn't the classiest of ladies. If he were to put a label on the type of girl she was, he would have to call her a lush. She was someone to call for a good time, but not much more.

"Where have you been?" she asked him. Her voice was needy.

"Out of town for business," he lied, knowing it didn't make much of a difference to her what his reasons for leaving Suna had been.

Confirming his suspicions, Kanoka threw her arms around him and pulled him closely. "I've missed you this whole time. I can't believe you've been away so long."

He smiled. Maybe he'd get lucky tonight. "Oh, really?"

She nodded, widening her eyes as she did so to give herself a look of innocence and purity, but Kankuro knew better. "That's a nice ring you have."

She drew back, but only slightly. She extended her arm out and allowed the club's flashing lights to shine on her jewel. "I'm engaged now, y'know."

"Congratulations," Kankuro grunted. Perhaps he wouldn't get lucky tonight after all. He had no interest in meddling with a taken woman.

"How about a kiss, Kankuro-kun?" Her arms were back around him as she nuzzled his shoulder.

"And what of your engagement?" He asked her, changing his mind suddenly. What was it to him if she was engaged? That was her problem, not his. And he was single. He wasn't to be at fault. After all, she'd come onto him. Not the other way around.

"Get a room! You guys are disgusting!"

Kankuro turned to face the interruption. A pink-haired girl sat at a small high top table. Upon that table was three empty bottles of beer, one unfinished bottle, scattered napkins, and a thick black marker. He had no idea what the woman was trying to accomplish, but could see she already mildly intoxicated at the least.

She waved a scarf at them and yelled more, urging them to go. She complained that she couldn't concentrate with such atrocious behavior in front of her. She even asked them if they were teenagers with no control over their hormones, but it was rhetorical so neither he nor Kanoka had responded.

"Let's get away from her," Kanoka whispered. "She must be crazy, and things are getting weird."

Kankuro grinned. "On the contrary, I think things just got a lot more fun."

Kanoka rolled her eyes, but took the hint and left to find someone else to cast her affections upon. Kankuro invited himself to the open seat of the high top table and joined pink-haired young woman.

"What do you want?" She demanded, scrunching her nose. Kankuro couldn't help but note the cuteness of the action.

He ignored her question and instead asked one of his own. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" She asked, waving her thick black marker near his face. "I'm writing my resignation letter."

"In a bar?"

"Why the hell not?" She grunted and tried to return to her work. She didn't get far into her letter before turning back to the stranger seated next to her. Puzzled, she asked, "Do you plan on staying there all night and watching me?"

"Why the hell not?" He replied, using her own words.

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "I bet you've never even written a resignation letter. Judging by your clothes, you look unemployed and maybe even homeless." She lifted the napkin aggressively. "This," she said, waving it, "is a very big deal." She enunciated every word in her last sentence, spitting a little as she did so.

He tried not to laugh. Perhaps Kanoka was right. This girl was not of the usual brand. She was different, but he was oddly attracted by her peculiarity. "But on a napkin?"

"Where else?" She picked up a coaster and nearly shoved it at him. "On this?"

Kankuro shook his head. "So, what's your story? Why are you in a bar writing a resignation on a beer-stained napkin?"

Again, she glared at him – this time for several moments before deciding to relax. With a deep breath, she launched into the story of why she was sitting in Club Oasis, writing her resignation letter on a dirty napkin.

She gestured this way and that. She bared her teeth as she mimicked the buzzing sound a swarm of bees makes. Her features were lively and her voice was shrill to demonstrate the screams of the guests. She even lowered her voice when she played the role of her boss Akira and President Akimichi. She was quite the animated storyteller, this strange pink-haired woman.

"You should just write the letter of apology," he said at last when she finished her story and settled down some.

"Weren't you listening?" She growled. "I didn't do anything to apologize for." She chugged the remaining contents of her beer and set it down with a decisive smack. She slapped at herself on the cheeks a couple times and asked, "What did I do to deserve this? Today was supposed to be a good day. It was supposed to be _my _day."

Kankuro took this opportunity to steal her napkin and read her resignation aloud. "Letter of Resignation: I rock. You guys don't. Suck it. I quit. Signed, Imamura Tsubasa." He cocked his head to the side, rethinking the words. It was kind of poetic. "Your name is Tsubasa? Isn't that a boy's name?"

"Forget my gender-_neutral _name," she slurred at him. She used to hate that she had been christened with a boy's name at birth until later deciding that she was breaking gender role barriers. Really, she was meant to be a hero of feminist rights and equality. Others just didn't know it yet. "How's the letter?"

He raised a brow. "You're really going to turn this in?"

She scoffed, insulted. "Of course not." She snatched another napkin on the table, put her nose to it and pretend to blow. "I'm going to turn it in like this." She scrunched the napkin and tossed it with as much force as she could onto the floor.

"You're gross," Kankuro told her, but he was smiling.

"That's right, I'm gross!" She fell into a peal of laughter, hitting her fists against the table in an effort to control her good humor. The empty beer bottles shook from the action.

Kankuro watched as she giggled against the pile of napkins squished underneath her face. She was weird, yes, but she was adorable in a childish way too. He was about to tease her more when a shock of fiery red hair caught his eyes in the distance.

He frowned. Hair as red as that only belonged to one person. His brother.

He'd only been in Suna for a few hours, and his brother had managed to get wind of his arrival. It was a shame Gaara knew him so well too – or at least, well enough to know he could be found at Club Oasis.

The two made eye contact across the crowd. Kankuro stood and made his way to an exit. Tsubasa, in a drunken stupor, noticed his departure a few seconds too late. He had taken her resignation letter with him. Angered by the blatant act of thievery, she got up from the table and attempted to chase him.

She wasn't the only one chasing, however. A wealthy-looking man had similar intentions as he called out to Kankuro.

Kanoka had pulled up to the scene in her white sports car and asked Kankuro to join her. She was headed to another club, and Kankuro needed an escape route since his options prior to her arrival had been limited.

Luck was on his side tonight, he knew that much. Wordlessly, he obliged her and jumped into the passenger seat of the vehicle, leaving Gaara to yell after him.

"That thief!" Tsubasa screeched, stumbling out from the club. "How dare you steal my resignation letter? I'll never forgive you!" She shook her clenched fists at her sides in anger. "I am a government employee! I'm a—"

"You know Kankuro?" A man with brilliant red hair asked, cutting her off.

Tsubasa couldn't answer him if she had wanted to. She had drank too much, and her stomach was not content with the amount of alcohol within it. She had begun to dry heave. Her hands clutched at the man next to her. She didn't know who he was, didn't care. She just needed some sort of support.

Disgusted, Gaara peeled her off of himself, but without his support, she quickly fell to the ground and passed out. A crowd had gathered, curious of the situation. When the onlookers noticed she was unconscious, they quickly began to whisper amongst themselves. Many of them had recognized Gaara as a famous face in Suna. It made him worry about his reputation. He couldn't afford bad publicity. It would reflect poorly on his hotel and his prestigious family.

Carefully, he crouched and tapped at the pink-haired girl. "You can't sleep here," he told her, but there was no response. He tried to be more firm. "Wake up!" Again, nothing.

An ambulance cleared the way and it wasn't long before she was placed onto a stretcher. Because Gaara appeared to be the only person in the crowd who knew anything of her, the emergency medical technicians asked if she had taken any drugs.

"I don't know anything about her. This is the first time I've ever seen this girl." Gaara rubbed his temples to impede an inevitable migraine. He wondered just how he had managed to get himself tangled up with this woman.

"Please come to the hospital and fill out paperwork as her guardian," a nurse directed him once they'd arrived at the medical center. He shouldn't have even climbed into the ambulance to begin with.

"I'm not her guardian," Gaara argued. He turned to leave, but was overcome with a sense of responsibility. Whoever this pink-haired woman was, she ought to be grateful for what he was about to do for her.

Reluctantly, Gaara filled out the appropriate paperwork and handed it over to a nurse. He wasn't pleased with the extra effort he had to put in for a woman he didn't even know, but figured he owed some kind of good deed to the world.

He wasn't exactly sure what brought him to check up on the pink-haired woman other than an overwhelming curiosity, but he wandered over to the hospital bed she lay unconscious on. He couldn't help but notice that one of the buttons of her blouse was unfastened. He grimaced at the sight of his pet-peeve.

His better judgment told him to fight the urge to correct the mistake. It would look inappropriate if he went near the area. His sense of irritation said otherwise. He drew near her, leaned over, and slowly moved to fix it. His hand stopped short of the issue. He thought of another method. Moving toward the foot of the hospital bed, he gathered her blanket and attempted to pull it over her completely. If he covered the opened portion, the issue would no longer draw his attention.

The second method wasn't working out so well, however. The blanket was caught underneath her feet and would not reach to cover her chest. Frustrated, he gave it a firmer tug. The action stirred her awake. Round blue eyes gazed at him in a state of bewilderment.

Her furrowed brow became more relaxed. Her expression softened to a smile. 'He's handsome,' she thought to herself.

"Nurse," Gaara called out twice.

Help arrived shortly. "What's your name?" A doctor who had appeared asked the young woman. A nurse stood beside him, pen and notepad ready.

"Imamura Tsubasa," she replied. She tried to sit up, but then thought against it. If she was in a hospital bed, it was probably for the better that she continue to lie down.

"Citizen Identification Number?"

She recited a long list of numbers aloud while the nurse jotted them down. Her eyes struggled to look past the nurse and the doctor. Where did the good-looking man she saw earlier go? She wondered for a moment if she had imagined it.

"You have acute alcohol poisoning," the medic informed her.

"What?" she demanded. "I have _what_?"

The doctor sighed. "Haven't you heard of it before?" Young doctors made her worry because she had a tendency to assume they were inexperienced. He wasn't too young-looking though so she settled herself down.

"Yes," she grumbled. "I've heard of it."

"Have you taken any drugs? Maybe hallucinogens?" He flashed a bright light in her pupils, causing her to wince and struggle.

After pulling away, she shot him a dirty look. "As if! What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"Were you stung by a bee?" the doctor asked her, noticing the splotches of red on her chest, near her neck.

"Yesterday," she said. "Why?"

"I doubt that helped your alcohol poisoning." The doctor shook his head. "You should be alright after resting a bit more, and then you can go home. The nurse will give you some medicine to reduce swelling and pain before you leave."

"I could have died," she realized, ruffling her hair from the stress of it all. If she kept up the action, she would pull every pink strand out from her skull until she was bald so she put her hands down to her lap. Her fingers twiddled nervously. 'I'm feverish,' she thought frantically. 'Completely deluded… Maybe someone else slipped me drugs in my drink, or maybe I'm losing my mind!'

"Would you like a tangerine?" An older woman extended an orange fruit to her, snapping out of her hysteria. She was grateful for the interruption.

"Thank you," Tsubasa told her, politely accepting. "I don't know if I am allowed to eat though."

"Well, give it your husband." Her lips crinkled into a whiskered smile.

"My husband?" Tsubasa was dumbfounded. "I don't have a husband."

"Oh," she crooned. "I thought the handsome young man was your husband. He stayed with you all night."

"All night?" This was certainly appalling. Tsubasa couldn't imagine anyone who would be so supportive of her. Her cousin Sanosuke couldn't have possibly known she was there. No one had any way of knowing who he was. How could they have even contacted him?

"He didn't leave your side." She nodded. "He just sat completely still without moving." She sat up suddenly, straightened her posture and donned a serious expression.

"Really?" Tsubasa squeaked. Someone had rescued her, had been her hero. She almost blushed at the thought.

An older gentleman appeared and sat down at the side of the woman's hospital bed, likely her husband. "That wasn't her husband, that was her lover," he corrected, nodding his head as if he had immeasurable wisdom. "There he is now." The older man lifted his finger to point out the man he had been referring to.

Tsubasa turned as pink as her hair. The only place she could seek shelter was underneath her hospital blanket. She couldn't help but peer over the hem of it, and just in time to see the man from before make his way toward her.

"You lover has woken up," the old man beckoned to him.

Gaara's mouth formed a straight, displeased line. "We are not lovers."

This time the older woman chimed in. "Sure, sure." She waved him away and giggled.

Struggling within the sheets of the hospital bed, Tsubasa clumsily turned on her side so that Gaara was facing her back. Sheepishly, she twisted her neck to give her a better view of him. "Who are you?"

He didn't respond to her question, didn't care to tell her. "You were at Club Oasis yesterday. How well do you know the person you were with?" His eyes fell to her blouse. That button was still there, open and mocking him. He almost growled. "Please button up properly."

Her own eyes traveled down to her chest, realizing the unfastened button at last. It wasn't just an open button that was the problem. It seemed she had skipped over a notch, and it had thrown off the rest of the buttons on her blouse. She looked a mess, and her fingers quickly worked to fix it.

Gaara scoffed. Women like her, women who were unkempt and didn't know how to dress themselves, were the kind that really bothered him. They were the type who didn't know which way was up and which way was down, natural prey for his brother. "Of course you don't know him," he mumbled. "Kankuro hasn't changed."

"What were you saying about the club?" she asked him once she had fixed her blouse in a satisfactory manner.

"Forget it," he was going to tell her, but a nurse pulled him away. She needed him to sign a release form. He tried to explain that he wasn't her guardian, but the nurse insisted he come with her. The only way she would be released was if he signed off on it.

Tsubasa took this time to get dressed, more than ready to leave and go home. This was beginning to become too weird for even her. Once her coat was on, she hurried down the hall and inquired after the whereabouts of the mysterious gentleman who had been with her. The same nurse from earlier informed her he was handling her discharge.

She found him entering a taxi cab outside. She rushed over, knocked on the window and implored him to speak with her. He stared straight ahead at first. He seemed to be in some sort of dispute with the driver who continuously glanced in Tsubasa's direction. It was evident that cab driver wanted the passenger to respond to her.

The man exited the taxi and the driver took off. He would have to flag another one down.

"What is it?" He asked irately, but didn't await a response. "I've paid your hospital bill. Everything has been taken care of."

"That isn't it." She sounded nervous, almost shy. "It's just that I don't have my purse on me."

"You need money for a cab?" Gaara stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, searching for a few bills. "Don't you have any family?"

"It's not that." She shook her head. "I was going to suggest that we go back to the club together. I can find my purse and pay you back for the hospital bill."

"It's unnecessary." He felt himself quickly growing more and more impatient. He had already wasted enough time there with her.

"Please," she begged, and clasped her hands around his wrist. "I'm very grateful for what you've done for me, but I'd like to repay you."

"There's no need." He grimaced and removed her hands from him. He began to walk down to the side of the hospital, hoping for another taxi. She was resilient, however, for she followed him.

"Please, I'm uncomfortable with a stranger taking care of my hospital bill." Her voice came out as a soft whine. It nearly made him cringe. She was exactly the sort of woman that bothered him.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to endure it." At long last, a taxi had pulled up. He could make his escape and rid himself of the annoying woman.

"Endure it?" She sounded even shriller as her face contorted. It was clear she was becoming offended.

"You seem tacky," he observed as he climbed inside the taxi cab. "So, you'll get over it."

"Tacky," she growled, but she was already staring down the back bumper of the car. He must have thought she was hitting on him. She could see he was a haughty and arrogant type of person – the kind she really disliked. They always believed that everyone wanted them or wanted something from them. That sort of attitude was intolerable. "The nerve!"

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I've felt so uninspired for a while now with my story <em>The Life and Times of the Kazekage's Assistant. <em>I have needed some time to recollect my thoughts before figuring out the direction it should take. During that time, I felt guilty over those who have become such fans of Gaara and my OC Tsubasa. So, I decided to re-vamp their story with this new piece of fan fiction. Alternate universes and split timelines are always fun in my opinion. I hope you feel the same about this version of their story.

Let me know your thoughts in a review.


End file.
